


Convince Me

by thequidditchpitch_archivist



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst, Dubious Consent, Erotica, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Heterosexual Sex, Love/Hate, Not Epilogue Compliant, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Post-War, Public Sex, The Quidditch Pitch: Erotic Couplings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2008-11-06
Updated: 2008-11-06
Packaged: 2018-10-27 11:41:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,980
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10808331
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thequidditchpitch_archivist/pseuds/thequidditchpitch_archivist
Summary: Harry and Susan's differences of opinion come to a head following a rough day in Auror training.





	Convince Me

**Author's Note:**

> Note from Annie, the archivist: this story was originally archived at [The Quidditch Pitch](http://fanlore.org/wiki/The_Quidditch_Pitch), which went offline in 2015 when the hosting expired, at a time I was not able to renew it. I contacted Open Doors, hoping to preserve the archive using an old backup, and began importing these works as an Open Doors-approved project in April 2017. Open Doors e-mailed all authors about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact us using the e-mail address on [The Quidditch Pitch collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/thequidditchpitch/profile).
> 
>  **Author's notes:** Written for Blithelybonny for Wizard_Love 2008.

The Stinging Hex caught Harry directly on the knob of his wrist, the unexpected pain loosening his grasp on his wand. A moment later the wand was gone as well, sailing from his hand to fall neatly into Susan Bones’ outstretched one. Cursing roundly, Harry glared at his training partner.

“Dead again, Potter,” she smirked, twirling his wand between her fingers before handing it back to him. “That’s the sixth time I’ve killed you this morning. You’re losing your touch. Usually I’ve only killed you three times by now.”

Muttering under his breath, Harry snatched the wand from her before stalking back to his starting point. He’d recalled Susan as a pleasant, even-tempered girl back in school, but sometime between the end of their sixth year and the end of the war she’d changed. She was harder now, less inclined to smile. He figured a lot of that was due to living under the Carrows’ thumbs for a year, but not all. Neville hadn’t seemed as embittered the last time they’d met for a pint, and Luna was planning her next Snorkack-hunting expedition, sure that they’d migrated to Norway from Sweden and that was why she and her father kept missing them.

She’d definitely improved her spellwork in the ensuing time. They’d started training at the Auror academy at the same time, and she consistently outstripped him in every facet of training. Her disguises were better, her analyses of past cases were better thought out, her tracking abilities were exemplary. She even did better in the written coursework, her papers earning top marks more often than not.

It was duelling, however, that riled Harry the most. He’d always considered himself fairly adept at duelling and spellcasting. He’d taught Susan the Expelliarmus charm himself back in fifth year during their DA days. The fact that she bested him so easily now irked him beyond measure. When did she get so good? And when had she developed an attitude to go along with her skill?

“All right, everyone in position,” Auror Savage, their instructor, called out. “We’ve time for one last round.”

Susan raised her wand. Harry raised his.

“And…go!”

Spells flew through the air, fast and thick as each paired trainee attempted to disarm and disable the other. They weren’t lethal, or altered enough not to have truly lethal consequences, but getting hit by one still hurt. One by one each pair got a winner and loser until it was only Harry and Susan, wands flashing light and sparks as they battled, until Harry threw up a shielding spell an instant too late, doubling over at a slashing pain across his chest. Dropping to his knees, he looked up dully to find Susan’s wand pointed directly at his face.

“Better,” she said, “but still dead.” Giving him a crooked smile, she turned and walked away.

Harry climbed back onto his feet, still clutching his chest. Even fake Severing spells hurt.

“Potter, a word with you before you leave for the next class,” Auror Savage called out, and Harry groaned. He’d hoped the other man hadn’t noticed his subpar performance today, but luck apparently had left with Susan.

~*~*~*~*~*~

 

The rest of the day was no better. Following a scathing critique and discussion with Auror Savage, in which Harry’s skill, willingness to learn, and his fitness to even be part of the training program were all called into question, he attended the rest of his classes, shooting dark looks at Bones and seething inwardly. The revelation that his instructors doubted his abilities and his fellow trainees increasingly resented his presence rankled. He had as much right to be here as anyone, deserved to be here as much as they.

The last class of the day, Hand to Hand Combat, was the last straw to cap a horrid day. Susan flipped, pinned, and basically manhandled him as though he was some kind of rag doll. It was almost as if she knew which way he was going to move even before he did. He’d suspect Legilimency, only the need for consistent eye contact wasn’t there, and he never felt an attempt to pry into his mind.

“Dammit, Potter, you’re not even trying now,” Susan snarled at him under her breath following the most recent pin. “Get up and show me something!”

“I _am_ trying,” Harry gritted through his teeth. “If you’d give me a moment to actually get up…”

Susan snorted, shaking her head in disgust, but pulled him up onto his feet, standing back while he caught his breath. “Are we feeling more rested now?” she asked with a false sweetness that set his teeth on edge. “I’m such a considerate little Dark witch, aren’t I? Not many would let you get your wind back, I’m thinking.”

“Shut up, Bones,” Harry snarled, lunging at her. She sidestepped, grabbed his arm and twisted it behind his back before kicking his legs out from under him, nearly wrenching his shoulder from its socket as he crashed to the mat. Scrambling back to his feet, he prepared to lunge again, stopped by Auror Hartwell’s whistle, signalling the end of class. Harry endured yet another tight smile from Susan as she walked away. He hesitated, startling when a hand clapped him on his sore shoulder.

“She’s on her game today,” Seamus commented as he breezed by, smiling. Harry noticed it didn’t reach his eyes. “She’d have made any of us look bad.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Harry demanded. Seamus rolled his eyes and sauntered away without bothering to answer. Harry followed him after a moment to the facility’s changing room, showering quickly before drying off and pulling on a clean pair of jeans and a shirt, jaw clenched.

The women’s changing room was adjacent to the men’s. Harry stood outside the door, waiting, until it opened and Susan walked out, her hair still damp and free of its usual long plait. Harry blinked, trying to recall if he had ever seen her with her hair unbraided before. It spilled over her shoulders, falling down her back nearly to her waist in a waterfall of wheat and honey and autumn gold, loose and somehow wanton in an indefinable way that made Harry’s groin stir, until he remembered he was supposed to be angry with her.

“Susan!” he called out, pushing away from the wall he’d been leaning against and following her. “I want to talk to you.”

She slowed, but didn’t stop completely, giving him time to fall into step beside her. “Make it fast,” she said. “I’m supposed to meet with Hannah and Ernie shortly for drinks.”

“What have I done to put such a huge fucking chip on your shoulder?” he asked. “It’s almost as though you go out of your way to make me look like an idiot.”

The look Susan gave him could have petrified a hippogriff at a hundred paces. “Trust me, Potter, it’s not that hard to do. The rest of us are here because we worked for it.”

“And I didn’t?” Harry was outraged. The sheer gall of the woman! “I’ll have you know…”

“No. You didn’t.” Susan glanced around, but it was only the two of them in the corridor. Grabbing Harry’s elbow, she propelled him into an empty classroom, shoving him none too gently inside.

“What the…” Harry sputtered.

Closing the door behind her, Susan turned to face him, arms crossed over her chest. “Shut up and listen, Potter. You want to know why I think you didn’t work to get here, why I and most of the other trainees are unhappy? It all comes down to one question. How many NEWTs did you receive? How many of them were good enough to earn acceptance into the Auror training program?”

Harry gaped. “Is that it? Just because I didn’t retake our seventh year? I’ll have you know I got permission from Minister Shacklebolt himself, and Professor – I mean, Headmistress – McGonagall wrote a reference letter, and…”

“Meanwhile, the rest of us finished the year, sat our NEWTs, and sweated all summer waiting to find out the results. I had to retake Potions seventh year and studied all summer so I could sit my NEWT for that. We had to work for what we have. We had to earn it.”

“And I didn’t? Killing Voldemort wasn’t enough for you?” Harry snarled.

Susan shook her head. “Voldemort has nothing to do with this. Yes, you killed him. Yes, we’re all glad he’s gone. It still doesn’t give you the right to special treatment. You weren’t the only one to fight the bloody damn war.” She took a step back, breathing hard. “Did you know they made the same offer to Neville? Entry into the academy? He turned it down.”

“That’s different,” Harry argued. “He didn’t want to become an Auror, that was his Gran’s ambition for him. Last I heard he’d got himself apprenticed to Professor Sprout.”

“And he sat his Herbology NEWT to get that apprenticeship,” Susan pointed out triumphantly. “We all know he probably didn’t have to, but he did. It was the principle of the thing. He didn’t coast on his laurels; he earned that apprenticeship as much as the rest of us earned the right to become trainees. But not you.” Her mouth twisted. “Apparently the rules don’t apply if your name is Harry bloody Potter.”

Harry quite literally saw red for a moment. “I never asked for any of it!” he roared. “Voldemort killed my family and tried to kill me. You think I wanted the job? You think I wanted my parents to die?”

Susan snorted. “Oh, please. You think you were the only one to lose family during the war? You think your father was the only one who tried to save loved ones and failed? You should know better than to use that argument with me. The truth, Potter, is that you’ve had luck and friends to bail you out of more than a few sticky spots over the years, and now that you have to go it alone you can’t handle it. You’re missing a year’s worth of study the rest of us got, and it shows. You look bad, you know it, I know it, and I imagine the Aurors are beginning to realise their mistake as well. Makes you wonder how long before they eject you from training, doesn’t it?”

“I saved all of you,” Harry muttered, a sullen knot forming in the pit of his stomach. “I deserve this chance as much as the rest of you.”

“Then prove it,” Susan snapped. “Beat me in a fair fight, and maybe I’ll start to believe you.” Tossing her hair back over her shoulder, she gave him the same infuriating grin from earlier in the day. “I don’t think you can. Not while you continue feeling more entitled than worthy. You’re more than welcome to try and convince me, though.”

Harry growled, deep in his chest. He wished he could wipe that superior smirk from her face, wished he’d never tried to talk to her. She couldn’t possibly understand everything he’d been through, how much he’d suffered to be where he was now only to watch it slip from his grasp.

Susan’s smile widened, blue eyes suddenly alight. “Like that, is it?” she asked, closing the distance between them. “Don’t you hate it when all your pretty little assumptions fall apart around you and you can’t control it, much less stop it from happening?” Her hands slipped inside Harry’s jacket, arms going around his waist, her fingers toying with the waistband of his jeans. Her stomach was flat and trim, pressed snug against him.

“I’m not losing control of anything,” Harry rasped, glaring at the mocking curve of her lips.

“Prove it,” she replied, shifting slightly and pressing against the hot, hard length of his traitorous cock. “I don’t think you will.” Pressing him back against the wall, Susan tugged at his belt, unzipping his jeans and sliding her hand inside to cradle him. Wrapping her fingers around his erection, she squeezed hard before beginning to stroke him. Harry sucked in a sharp intake of breath as her free hand gripped his hair, bringing him forward until her lips crushed against his.

The taste of her was intoxicating, irresistible. Harry’s mouth parted, lips and tongues and teeth duelling for possession. Harry was burning, barely aware when Susan pushed him back against the wall once more. He all but growled her name, and she smiled against his lips.

Tangling one hand in the golden cascade of her hair, Harry crushed his lips to hers, tongue stroking through her mouth until she reclaimed possession of the kiss, hard and fast. Her hand tightened around his cock and it was all he could do not to thrust into her hand. If Susan thought she could control him so easily as in everything else, then Harry was determined to prove her wrong.

Moving the hand not wrapped in Susan’s hair from the small of her back to her front, he drove it down the front of her trousers, seeking her clit and finding her soaking wet. She moaned, and Harry seized the opportunity to turn them, pinning her to the wall in his stead. Pulling his hand from her trousers, he quickly unfastened them. The hand in Susan’s hair pulled her head back, mouth feasting on the cord of her neck while he worked her trousers and knickers down past her hips. Her hand stroked faster around his cock as it swelled against her palm, growling as he nipped her throat, arching into him when he palmed her again, fingers stroking her roughly.

Susan’s fingers, already fisted in his hair, tightened further, dragging Harry’s mouth back to hers. She bit down on his lower lip, and for a brief moment his moan echoed hers. Releasing his cock, she pushed her hand under his shirt, scraping her fingernails over his abdomen, making the muscles clench. Her teeth scored his lip again, body jerking against Harry’s hand. She let out a muffled moan, grabbing his length again and giving it a hard, rough tug.

Harry stroked her mercilessly, slipping two fingers into her roughly, thumb working over her clit. She bit her lip in an effort to keep silent, but silence couldn’t prevent the sudden flood of fresh wetness against his hand. Ducking his head, he captured her mouth, adding a third finger. Susan writhed in his arms, nails digging into his scalp nearly hard enough to draw blood.

Still stroking her, he whispered into her ear, “I want you to come for me.”

Susan gasped, blue eyes incandescent from combined lust and fury, and dropped her head against his chest. Harry felt her hot, panting breaths through his shirt, his cock twitching in her hand. She began stroking him again, even as his fingers drove harder into her.

“Come for me,” he demanded again, thumb rolling over her clit. “Now.”

Shaking her head, Susan pulled him against her, biting down again on his lip before licking at it. “Can’t make me,” she panted unevenly, fingers tightening around him.

“Fine.” Harry licked at his lower lip, tasting blood, and smiled. Moving slowly, he withdrew his fingers from her, feeling her shudder in frustrated need. Bringing his hand to his mouth, he carefully licked them clean, watching lust further darken her eyes, turning them molten. “We’ll try it another way.”

Moving both hands to her hips, Harry lifted her, sinking into her depths, her legs gripping his waist. Her hands slid beneath his jacket, fingernails raking down his back. He drove into her slowly, nearly maddened by the feel of her tight sheath wrapped around him, yet still determined to make her lose control first.

Susan clenched so tightly around his cock he couldn’t withdraw, growling, “C’mon, Harry, fuck me like you mean it.” He knew he oughtn’t react to her taunting, but couldn’t help it. Slipping his hands to her thighs, he drove deep into her, pounding her against the wall. She winced whenever he thrust hard enough to drive her head back, but didn’t ask him to stop or slow, letting him continue fucking her.

“D’you think I mean it now?” he asked, voice raspy.

Susan couldn’t respond, panting too hard to form a coherent reply. He continued driving into her fiercely, the pleasure so intense he could hardly breathe. Her nails scored his back, small moans passing in brief, reluctant bursts past her lips. Their eyes met for a split second before her head fell back against the wall, a strangled cry escaping her mouth. Her hands lifted to his shoulders, beating at them with her fists, her hips jerking toward his plunging cock.

Roughly, Harry shoved her back against the wall, bracing her and freeing one hand to move between their straining bodies, finding her clit and giving it a sharp tug. He covered her mouth with his, stifling her cries, exploding into her a moment before she shattered around him, groaning into his mouth in satisfaction.

It was the best sex he’d ever had, and she’d still won. Pulling out of her, Harry lowered her to the ground. Susan drew herself up, licking her lips and reaching for her clothes, pulling on her knickers and trousers and fastening them quickly before smoothing her shirt. Running her fingers through her fringe, she reached out and touched his cheek with her other hand, a small smile toying at her kiss-swollen mouth.

“We’ll call that a draw,” she said. “Brilliant shag, by the way. Apparently you do have some skills. Now let’s see you put some of that determination into class.”

Brushing past him, she left the classroom. Harry watched the sway of her hips as she walked away, still wondering who’d won, before slowly straightening his own clothing and following her out the door.

* * *


End file.
